Georgia On My Mind
by Idunnowhy
Summary: Those post-its meant something. George is in charge. Rube comes back. And when things go straight to hell, they both realize that sometimes life after death is more than it's cracked up to be.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: All my fanfic before now has been for Twilight, so for those of you going, "Um, WTF?" sorry. **__**I'm still working on Hell's Bells, I promise. **_

_**I'm a HUGE fan of Dead Like Me, which, in my opinion, was canceled way before it should have been. So I've spent ample amounts of time trolling the Internet for fanfic. Now, I'm not normally a George/Rube shipper. BUT I stumbled across a post one day that said that no one could ever write a fic where the two of them would realistically wind up together, and…well, that's just downright insulting! **_

_**So, here we are. Georgia On My Mind picks up right after the made for television movie I try to pretend doesn't exist and is written to show that even though Rube and George make an incredibly unlikely couple, even the most unlikely couples sometimes find their happily ever after in each other's arms. **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Dead Like Me or any of its characters. They're still waiting for gravelings to come loot MGM and get the show back on the air where it belongs. **_

_**Now, on with the show…**_

In the movies you always hear people talking about the dignity of death. No one ever bothers to tell you the truth-that one second you're there, just going about your normal life, and the next you're standing there watching your body kick what's left of you out in a giant pile of crap. You can almost hear it saying, "So long, sucka!"

There's nothing dignified about death. I should know. It's what I do.

My name is Georgia Lass. Five years ago I was your average, ordinary, underachieving teenager. College dropout, unemployed, blah blah blah. Then I was flash fried by a toilet from outer space, and in exchange for getting to skip the whole "lying in my own crap" thing I instead get to spend the rest of eternity working for Death. Literally. Murder. Suicide. Freak accidents. The weirder your death happens to be, the more likely I am to pop up a few minutes beforehand, swipe your soul, then sit back and enjoy the show.

When my mom told me I was going to end up in a dead-end job, I don't think this was what she had in mind. Being a reaper sucks. A lot.

It sucked less when Rube was in charge. Smirking at the bourbon Mason stole from his place, which was currently swirling happily in my glass, I wondered what he'd say if he could see us now. Daisy, who was turning out to be even more of a drunken fuck-up than Mason. Roxy and her hero complex. And me, sitting at my piece of shit table, clutching one of the Post-Its that had literally fallen out of the sky after we sent Cameron into orbit while I tried to forget the whole bizarre series of events that brought us here.

Poor Murray. I really hoped he wasn't stuck with Cameron on some celestial plane just because their ashes got mixed together. Nobody deserved that. And I had enough bad karma coming my way.

I don't know why I kept the stupid post-it. Well, okay, I did, but it was cheesy. Post-its meant Rube, who would have taken one look at Cameron and kicked his sneaky little ass. I'd spent five years giving Rube as much shit as humanly possible, and none of us realized until after he got his lights that the man actually knew what the heck he was talking about. So I was feeling a little guilty.

Part of me missed him. He could be a gigantic freaking prick when he wanted to be, but he always knew what to do when things were going down the toilet. If he was here…

Lifting the glass again, I pushed the thought out of my head. He wasn't here. He wasn't ever going to be here again. That's what getting your lights meant, that you actually got to get your happy ending. And if anyone deserved it, it was him. We were just going to have to deal.

A soft 'scritch' came from the far side of the room. Great. There were always mice running around. Next time I reaped someone with a cat it was coming home with me. With a sigh I reached down, pulled off my shoe and whipped it toward the door. Instead of a reassuring squeak, what I got was a soft thud. Looking over, I saw it had landed on a manila envelope.

Huh. That was unexpected.

Setting the glass down on the table I pushed back, the gorgeous brown swirly stuff making my knees wobble when I got to my feet. Another hour and I'd be too wasted to spend any more time thinking about my un-life. Good. This shit was really starting to get old.

Bending over and hopping a few times I pulled my shoe back on and picked up the envelope. It was completely blank. No name, no address. Maybe somebody stuck it in the wrong place? Yanking open the door, I poked my head out. All I saw was a shadow disappearing around the corner.

"Hey! Hey!"

No one answered. I thought about chasing down whoever it was. Yeah. Knowing my luck it was the pizza delivery guy. He'd probably call the cops, and since I really didn't want to have to have Delores bail me out of jail again…hell no. If it was that important the idiot should have stuck it under the right door in the first place.

I tossed the envelope into the trash and went back to my drink, but I couldn't forget about it. What if it was important? What if it was, like, some top secret spy shit? The world as we know it could come to an end because some stupid delivery guy was too wasted to listen to directions. Wouldn't that be some kind of freaky poetic justice.

Shoving away from the table, I bent down and scooped the envelope out of the trash and stared at it. I'd take a quick peek inside. Then, if I couldn't figure out who it belonged to, I could drop it back in the can and completely forget about it.

Folding up the clasp, I lifted the top to the folder and pulled out the papers that were stashed inside.

"Holy shit!"

Staring at the papers in my hands I tried to convince myself it was a mistake, but I knew. I'd known since I saw those post-its come tumbling out of the sky. Names. Addresses. Time of death. These were tomorrow's reaps. I was the only one in our group that hadn't completely fucked up this time, so upper management was giving me another chance.

"This isn't happening. This cannot possibly be happening."

Tossing the papers on the table, I backed away and shoved my hands in my hair. My knees were shaking so hard I could barely stand. I wasn't ready for this. I was barely holding my own shit together. How the hell did upper management expect me to handle anyone else's?

Oh crud. I was Mason's new boss.

My vision started to blur around the edges. Great. Nothing said, 'Hey, thanks for the new job!' like passing out in the middle of your kitchen floor. Bending over and sucking in air, I barely registered the knock at the door. Probably Mason wondering where Rube's bourbon went. Or Daisy wanting to talk about Cameron Kane. Or Roxy, trying to apologize. Again. I so wasn't in the mood to deal with them right now.

"Go away!"

Whoever it was stopped for a second, then started knocking again, louder this time. Didn't people have any fucking consideration? It was my fucking house, and if I wanted to be alone in my fucking house than whoever was at the fucking door should go away and leave me the fuck alone. Storming over, I yanked open the door.

"Goddamn it, what the fuck is your fucking problem? I said…"

"Hello Peanut. Glad to see you finally learned how to clean up that filthy mouth."

The words died on my lips. The same gray bowler hat. The same leather jacket. The same worn, faded jeans. Rube. Lurching forward, I threw myself into his arms. Thank god. Maybe I wasn't going to have to do this after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Rube wrapped one arm around my back and placed his other hand on my hair, pulling me tight to his chest and tucking my head under his chin. They say people smell like the last place they visited. If that was the case, heaven smelled a lot like pipe tobacco, crispy crispy bacon and the Old Spice Rube always wore. Unfamiliar feelings crawled through me as I hugged him tighter, growing and spreading at the feeling of his breath in my hair and making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was almost like I was happy to see him.

"Heard you all really fucked the dog this time, Peanut."

And there it was. A ripe, rich reminder of exactly why I'd never felt those warm, fuzzy feelings before. Leave it to Rube to take a perfectly nice reunion and ruin it with a vivid reminder of why I'd dedicated hours of my un-life to finding ways to piss him off. I pulled back, insulted, and opened my mouth to cuss him out…and started to cry.

"You asshole!" I yelled, pulling my arm back to slug him in the chest while the tears rolled down my face. "I didn't do jack. But you know what? Even if I had, it would be all your fault."

"My fault?"

"Damn straight." I swiped my eyes impatiently. Damn tears were rolling so thick and fast I couldn't see Rube's face. I'd been waiting for months for the chance to tell him what I thought about him deciding to just up and leave without bothering to tell us goodbye and leaving us with Kane. I didn't think it would happen, and now that it did there was no way I was going to miss it. "None of this would have happened if you'd been here. But no, you had to go get your lights and then Kane came along and…and…"

If I hadn't been watching I would have missed the quick spasm of guilt and grief that shot across his face while he let me rant. Darn it. He should feel guilty. So why did I suddenly feel like shit for putting that look on his face?

"You left, Rube." My mouth picked that precise moment to run away from me. "You were supposed to be there, but you left, and everything went to shit."

"Everyone leaves sooner or later. You know that."

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?" His voice was brusque, but the hand that reached out to brush the tears from my cheeks was gentle. "You're all grown up now Peanut. You don't need me to stand here and hold your hand anymore."

"That's not the point."

"So what's the point?"

Huffing in frustration, I forced myself to bite back the almost instinctive 'Fuck you' dancing on the tip of my tongue. I wasn't that girl anymore. I hadn't been that girl for a very long time.

Okay, addendum. I wasn't that girl with anybody but Rube. He had a way of sending me back to the rebellious, angry 18 year old girl I'd been when I died, even while he helped me become somebody else. Now that I'd gotten the venom out of my system, I had so much I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him I'd almost puked on the street when I saw Der Waffle Haus reduced to nothing but rubble, because it was home. As much as the house I grew up in, or the house I shared with Daisy now. He'd made it home. I wanted to tell him I'd missed his snarky comments and those stupid yellow post-its. I'd missed being able to come to him with a question knowing he'd know the answer. I'd missed seeing his face at breakfast every morning.

I wanted to tell him I'd missed _him_.

"Never mind." Studying his face for the first time I saw the stress bracketing the corners of his eyes. Funny, I didn't think they had stress in heaven. Wasn't that the whole point of getting your lights? That you got to leave all the stress behind and actually _enjoy_ life after death? "Heaven not quite as perfect as it cracked up to be?"

"Something like that." Rube rocked back on his heels, his face going perfectly blank. "Actually, heaven looked pretty sweet. But before I even got my shoes off upper management comes by and tells me Cameron Kane's fucking up the natural order of the universe and, instead of stopping him, my team swallowed his bullshit hook, line and sinker. Four perfectly capable reapers that had no problem telling me to fuck off turn into Kane's little puppets. Then, instead of fixing the problem, you knock off Cameron Kane."

"Thought that was fixing the problem."

"Oh, it was. For now. Actions and consequences, Peanut. Actions and consequences. Since you can't seem to get your shit together without me here to put my foot up your ass, I get to kick back and enjoy another delightful stint on earth."

Wait, what? "That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair. It is what it is." He shrugged.

"Oh, come on. You can't be okay with this!" I was seriously getting pissed. "You got your lights! They can't just take that back!" I paused. "Can they?"

"Yeah, well, they can and they did. Are you going to let me in?"

"What?" The shift in topic took me by surprise. Then I realized we were still standing on the front porch. "Oh! Sorry. Come on in." He walked past me into the house, pulling off his hat and tossing it on the table. I wiped suddenly sweaty palms on the side of my pants. "Do you want a drink or something?"

"I'll take a glass of bourbon." Picking up the bottle on my table he pulled the cork and sniffed. "Smells like Russell's 90 proof."

"Yeah, well, you would know. It's yours. Mason and Daisy brought it over…after…" I trailed off, kicking myself. Rube was going to kick Mason's ass for looting his apartment.

"Thought it might be." He held it up, shaking it so the liquor swirled. "Got another glass?"

"Yeah, here." I grabbed a tumbler from the kitchen and plopped it in front of him. Without missing a beat he filled my cup and his.

Tipping his glass to his lips, Rube closed his eyes and sighed. "I missed this," he murmured conversationally. "You miss a lot of things in heaven."

"Things you like."

"Yeah." He smiled over the top of his glass. "Things you like."

"Things…worth staying for?"

His whole face softened the way only his could. I knew we were both remembering the conversation we'd had when I first became a reaper, a conversation I pulled out and dusted off when reaping and real life got to be too much. He opened his mouth, but before he could answer the door opened. Voices floated through.

"Come on Daisy, he was a bloody wanker and you know it. Why don't we…"

Mason's voice trailed off. He stood, lightly clasping Daisy's hand and staring at Rube.

"Well bugger me."


	3. Chapter 3

The steady ticking of the stupid clock on the wall made an eerie soundtrack for our odd little reunion. Mason and Daisy stood gaping, Daisy's usual grace deserting her (not that she'd had any lately) as she stared at Rube. She looked at him like…

Like he'd come back from the dead. Again. Which, you think about it, wasn't far from the truth. Poor guy couldn't catch a break.

"Rube!" I knew Mason would crack first. He walked over and threw his scrawny arms around Rube. The bourbon sloshed dangerously and he held it out of the way, one lip curling up in aggravated disgust.

His face said he wanted to be anywhere else, but I didn't miss the quick hand that came up to pat Mason on the back. Smirking, I tipped my head to look into Rube's unamused eyes. That's our Rube. Hard and crabby on the outside, soft and squishy on the inside. Just like an OREO cookie. Someday somebody was going to come along and scoop out that soft center, leaving just a cracked, brittle crust behind.

Oh wait, Death already did that when it decided to make him a reaper so he could watch his daughter die in his fucking arms.

Yeah, we all knew about that. I'd found out real quick Penny couldn't keep her mouth shut after you plied her with a couple of martinis, so generously provided by my fake ID. I understood why she did it, but…parents shouldn't have to bury their kids. Especially when that parent's already dead. And they got dead by trying to keep that kid off of the streets. It was messed up, and it had ripped Rube apart.

I couldn't help but wonder if it was all part of some messed up conspiracy upper management dreamed up. His daughter, his last tie to the living, just _happens_ to be in the same town he's reaping in, and her reap just _happens_ to go to one of his best friends? Bull. They knew she was going to tell him. I think they were just trying to drive the last of his humanity out of him so they could get away with crap like this.

He'd never been the same after that. I couldn't bring myself to say his daughter's name, or think of her as anything but a random ghost from his past. Otherwise it made the fact that we were all going to watch people we loved get old and die just a little too real and not just an abstract idea from some part of Rube's life that had nothing to do with me. Not much of Rube's life outside of reaping had anything to do with me, come to think of it. With any of us, except maybe Roxy. He poked and prodded and whipped out the damn crowbar to yank open our dirty little secrets, but ask him what he did when he wasn't at Der Waffle Haus and he shut up faster than Daisy did the morning I threatened to flush her $300 organic something-or-other down the toilet.

Watching Rube begrudgingly greet Mason, I realized for the first time that he must have been lonely here before. Just like I had been, before I had Mason and Daisy and Roxy and Betty and the screwed up little relationships that tied us together.

Being kicked out of heaven to get stuck with a group of people who were too wrapped up in their own lives to give a rat's ass what was going on in his was a fate worse than death. Literally. Maybe Rube wasn't just here to make us get our act together after Cameron's death. Maybe upper management was giving us a second chance to treat him the way we should have treated him the first time around.

Eyeballing my empty glass (when did that happen?) I carefully set it back on the table. This psychology stuff was Daisy's thing. She loved picking people apart. Said it added depth to her acting, whatever that meant. But it made her happy, and most of the time she was actually good at it. When _I _started to sound like Oprah, on the other hand, it was time to put down the alcohol.

"Georgia? Georgia honey, are you alright?" Cool hands pressed against my temple. Daisy was hovering over me, a frown marring her polished face. "You haven't heard a word we've said for the last five minutes."

"Don't be stupid Daisy. Reapers don't get sick. Georgie girl here's just spacing out." Mason pulled Daisy's hand away and started slapping my cheeks. "Georgie! Come back to us Georgie!"

"Ow! Goddamn Mason, what the fuck?" I jerked back my head and glared balefully at him, rubbing a hand on my stinging cheek. That actually hurt. "I was thinking. You should try it sometime."

"Keep thinking that hard and that brain of yours is going to get so big it'll pop out of your skull," Rube said helpfully. The irritation on his face had been replaced by a twinkle of amusement at my expense. Figures.

"What were you thinking, Georgia?" Daisy leaned against the pole at the end of the bar, arms crossed across her chest. I would have looked like a belligerent pain in the ass. Somehow, even in her black suit Daisy managed to look graceful. There were times I really hated her poise (at least, the poise she used to have before she started sleeping with Cameron Kane). Right now, with the world as I knew it getting flipped on its head, I was grateful for the familiarity of her annoying little habits.

"I was thinking you guys were a bunch of jerks," I griped. Daisy rolled her eyes. Mason shoved his hands in his pockets. Rube just arched his eyebrows, a very Rube-esque look on his face. They all thought I was just being a butthead. They didn't need to know it was true, or why. Knowing my luck, Mason would start giving me some shit about being hot for teacher and I'd have to have Roxy shoot him again.

Although she did owe me some favors for helping them straighten this mess out. Maybe…

"You're not staying here, are you?" Mason looked at Rube, his cheeks turning bright pink when he realized what he said. "I mean, not that you _can't_ stay here. Not my house, y'know. It's just there's only two bedrooms and…"

Daisy helpfully dug her elbow into his solar plexus, smiling sweetly when he bent double and gasped for air. "What Mason's trying to say is that you're welcome to stay here if you need to. You can have Georgia's room."

"Oh great, and where am I supposed to sleep?" I snapped. I regretted it the minute the words came out of my mouth and wasn't really sure why. I mean, it's not like Rube had gone out of his way to make sure I had digs after I came back from the dead. And unlike Mason, he could take care of himself. But…

But it sucked being newly dead and homeless to boot, and I really needed to learn to think before I speak. Resignation rolled up from my toes as I realized that no matter how badly I wanted to get back at him for all the shit he put me through after I died, I wasn't really going to kick him out.

"Don't hurt yourself Peanut," he said dryly, before I even had a chance to open my mouth. "Upper management made sure my apartment stayed open while I was gone. Guess they realized there wasn't a chance in hell you guys could manage to not fuck this one up. I just came over for these." Walking over to the table he scooped up the envelope with the reaps in one hand and the bottle of bourbon with the other, glaring at Mason when he started to protest. "I'll see you at The Dish at the usual time. And Peanut…" He looked at me meaningfully. "Don't be late."

Mason and Daisy disappeared, leaving me caught somewhere between pissed off, guilty and relieved while the ghost that had just walked back into our lives closed the door with a soft click behind him. Crap. I needed a drink.

**A/N: So very, very sorry for the delay in getting this done and posted. Many of you have asked me if I intend to continue this story. I don't just intend to continue it, I intend to finish it. However, real life's a little crazy at the moment and promises to stay that way for a couple more weeks, so if I'm a little slow getting things posted during that time please remember that I've not given up! And please, as always, read and review. You all know these characters just as well, if not better, than I do. I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	4. Chapter 4

It was weird, being with Rube and not being at Der Waffle Haus. I had to admit though, The Dish was cute. In an artsy kind of way. The walls were a nice, cheery yellow, the tables were dark wood with those little curliques on the legs, and there were flowers everywhere.

It so wasn't Rube's kind of place. There were no comfortable booths to lounge back in, and it definitely wasn't a restaurant where you could come, order six dollars worth of food and hang out for six hours without management coming by to throw you out.

Come to think of it, it wasn't the kind of place _we_ could spend a lot of time in without management coming to throw us out either. Apparently Rube had either been gone too long, or heaven had completely fried his brain. Either way, it was only a matter of time.

I hoped he had a back-up plan. I was gonna wait until Mason got here, then I was starting the clock. Even money said we got kicked out before I had to go to work.

"Morning Rube."

"Morning Peanut." Rube passed me the menu without looking up from his waffle. "The hash browns are excellent."

"Yeah?" Interested, I stuck my head in the menu. Then I frowned. "Hey, wait a minute. If they're so good, how come you aren't having any?"

"Because _I_…" Of course, Rube being Rube he had to toss in a dramatic, finger kissing flourish like those creepy French chefs on those cooking shows Mom used to watch. "…am having waffles."

"Well then, I want waffles." At least then I knew if I died of food poisoning, Rube would go first. If we could actually die. Wait, could reapers _get_ food poisoning?

"I'm having bacon too, you want some of that?"

"Extra crispy?"

"Is there any other way?"

You know, for a guy who'd just found out he was stuck back on earth indefinitely for something that totally wasn't his fault, Rube sounded downright chipper. I, on the other hand, was exhausted. Daisy had been so wired that she'd stayed up all night cleaning the freaking house. Which wasn't a bad thing, as a general rule, since it meant I didn't have to do it. But last night Daisy had decided she absolutely couldn't live without Pucchini, and she'd blasted it from the rooftop (metaphorically speaking) until four o'clock in the freaking morning.

It was apparently too much to ask Daisy to show a little fucking courtesy for those of us that had to crawl out of bed and go to work the next morning. Delores had just sent Murray into space. She was counting on me to be there for her. Ditching out to go do my reap was going to be hard enough. There was no way I could take the entire day off.

"Coffee for the lady. A waffle. Two orders of bacon, extra crispy"

Jerking awake, I looked from Rube to the waitress, who was standing there with her pad in her hand and a knowing smile on her face. Crap, when did I fall asleep? Oh man, had I drooled? A look at the table made me wince. Oh yeah.

I didn't even want to know what she was thinking. Whatever it was, it was probably a lot more interesting than the real thing. Everyone else always had these great fantasies of what my life was like. We were a team, me and fantasy me. One of us deserved to have a good time. The other one had exactly forty three minutes to eat her waffle and bacon and get her ass to Happy Time.

"Rube!" A blur of dark fabric, the creak of a well oiled gun belt. Roxy.

"Hey Roxy." Rube nodded at a chair. "Have a seat."

"I can't. I have to get to…"

"I said, have a seat." Rube's voice was suddenly hard. Reaching out without looking up, he pulled out the chair next to him, just in case she couldn't figure out what he was talking about the first time. I saw Roxy open her mouth to argue, then swallow it back down. Smart girl. Smarter than I was. I knew we were all going to be toeing the straight and narrow for a while, just to stay on Rube's good side.

I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to handle it. I'd never been able to go more than a day or two without pissing him off. Why mess with a good thing?

Then again, right now the bar for good behavior was about as low as it was going to go. If we could manage to not screw up the natural order of life, not kill a reaper and not make any more gravelings, we'd be all right. Maybe I ought to take a lesson from Roxy, sit back, keep my mouth shut and see how long it could last.

Nah. Where's the fun in that?

"Gonna give us a pep talk this morning, Daddy-O?" I grinned cheerfully in the face of Rube's withering glare. "Cuz I have to be at work in less than an hour, so if this is going to be one of those epic speeches maybe you should do a podcast instead. Then we could just download it and listen to it later."

"That's an awesome idea. We could call it…Rube's Rambles." Mason slid into the chair next to Roxy, leaving me sitting there next to the mad cleaner. Either he had no idea what had been going on last night or, more likely, he just wanted to see a cat fight break out. What was it with men and jello wrestling, anyway?

Although right then, with Daisy looking all pampered and pressed to perfection while I felt like something the cat dragged in, the thought of turning those prissy pants green was sounding better and better.

"I'm not making a podcast." Rube waited for the waitress to set down our plates, then reached over and started cutting my waffle. Ummm… "We're going to lay down some rules."

"Oh, I'm not very good at rules. Maybe we should make them guidelines. You know, just in case."

"Rules, Mason. With a clause that says I get to kick your ass clear out of the state if you can't manage to follow them."

"Ummm, Rube?"

"Not right now Peanut. Can't you see I'm talking here?" Scooping up a bit of waffle, he stuck it into my mouth. "I want to make this very, very clear. If you fuck up again, you are gone. Period. No second chances. And that's straight from Upper Management, so I don't want to hear anyone complaining about it."

"What the hell?" Mason stared at Rube, wide-eyed. I knew how he felt. When you got right down to it, fucking up was what our ragtag little group did best. Telling us not to do it was like giving us a big fat permission card to, like, go blow up a building or something.

I didn't _want_ to transfer. Something told me Upper Management probably worked a lot like the military. If you were transferred, it wouldn't be someplace nice, like Barbados. It would be some cold, random post on some top secret base with, like, two people, frozen dinners and no cable.

We were so screwed. And what the _hell_ was Rube doing to my food?

**A/N: Thank you all so much for being patient with me. One more week of insanity, tops, then things should start getting back to normal and we'll see where Rube and George are going to go. In the meantime, this is for PillowDrabbler, who so kindly reminded me that every once in a while you have to wake up and smell the calendar! (And the stinkbombs in your front lawn) Thank you sweetie. Hope you enjoyed :) **


	5. Chapter 5

Rube's announcement went over like a lead balloon. It was a subdued group of reapers that got their assignments (back on our familiar yellow post-its, thank god) and headed out for another bright, bouncy day of taking souls.

You know, anyone who didn't know us would think people would be afraid of us. Grim reapers, soul robbers, graveling killers. If I was still alive, _I'd _be scared of me. If I knew who me was. I'm pretty sure there wasn't an ounce of fear in the jerk who deliberately drove through a puddle, spraying me from ankle to knee.

"Creep!" I yelled, reaching down and frantically shaking out my pants. Damn it. These were my only pair of clean work pants (I was just a little bit behind on laundry) but even if they weren't, I didn't have time to change. Now I was going to have to go through the rest of the day with mud slogging around in my shoes.

It was my own fault, I guess. Seattle drivers are all a bunch of jerks. Golden moments like these were exactly why I'd stopped walking to work most mornings. But I'd been in a good mood when I left the house this morning. The sun was shining. Rube was back. It seemed like way too nice a day not to be out enjoying it.

Now I remembered why I'd never played soccer. Or softball. Or anything else. The great outdoors greatly hated me.

Wouldn't have happened if I'd actually been paying attention. I was usually better at keeping an eye out for these things, but my head had been reeling from the unexpected almost-a-conversation I had with Rube before I left the diner.

Everyone else had left as soon as they had their assignments, eager to get started on our first official day of not being a bunch of unofficial fuck-ups. Me being me, however, I refused to leave good food lying on my plate. Hey, I worked hard for that!

Of course, it was awfully hard to really enjoy that which someone else is happily shoveling down your throat. As soon as everyone else was out of hearing range I yanked my fork back.

"What the hell are you doing?" I'd grumbled, happily cutting off a huge piece of waffle, soaking it in syrup and stuffing it in my mouth. "I than ftheed mythelf."

"Big girl now, aren't you?" With a shrug Rube picked his newspaper back up. "You've gotten so scrawny, I thought maybe you needed some help."

"I'm not scrawny." Was I? I looked down at my waistline with a scowl. All right. My skirts were a _little bit _loose these days. Dealing with Cameron Kane would do that to you. But I wasn't scrawny!

"Whatever you say Peanut."

Okay, one, I wasn't scrawny. I still filled out my bra just fine, thank you very much. And as someone who'd never been copiously blessed in that department, that wasn't the kind of thing I was likely to miss. Two, since when did Rube care? That wasn't exactly the kind of thing he would have noticed before. At least, I didn't think it was.

This new, solicitous Rube was something I just wasn't used to dealing with. I think I liked the one that told me to get my head out of my ass better. At least him, I knew how to deal with.

My brain was still gnawing on this unexpected turn of events when I got to work. The general chaos, and the fact that Delores wandered out of her office every few minutes to see what was going on, only to burst back into tears and wander back in again a few minutes later, which left me totally in charge, took care of that problem. Between verbally whipping a delivery boy (which I thoroughly enjoyed) and having to mediate a problem between two employees who couldn't agree on who got the "good" stapler (which I didn't, breaking the damn thing in half just to make them shut up) I didn't have time to worry about Rube. Period.

Unfortunately, I also managed to get so busy that I nearly missed my reap, something I hadn't done in _years_. In fact, I probably would have missed it completely if Rube hadn't stepped through the door. Crap. Could I sneak through the back door without him seeing me?

Not a chance in hell. His eyes zoomed in on mine like a heat seeking missle. I was so screwed.

"Rube!" Helllllllooooooooo, distraction. Delores came out of her office when she saw him, hands outstretched. "It's so good to see you." Then she looked over at me and frowned. "Millie said you were…that you…" The tears started flowing again. Crap. I forgot. She'd asked how Rube was doing the other day. I told her he was dead. I mean, you couldn't really tell your living boss that your undead boss got his lights, and now he didn't have to hang out on earth with losers like me anymore, could you?

What I couldn't remember was _how_ he'd died. This could get interesting.

"That I was dead?" Never the slow one, Rube dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her. She gratefully blew her nose on the thin scrap of white fabric, the honk (and inevitable snot) making me cringe. I wasn't the only one. That kind of sound tended to echo in a place like this. However, since Delores had managed to blubber on just about everyone today they just politely averted their eyes and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that it wasn't them.

"Nearly was," said Rube amiably. I guess between Daisy and me he was used to wailing women. That was kind of sad. "Car accident. Woke up three weeks later in a hospital. Doctors had no idea who I was."

"I saw something about that on the Discovery Channel." Delores's head bobbed like a puppet on a string. Then her face crumpled before disappearing into Rube's handkerchief. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "It's wonderful that you're here, but Murray's…Murray's…" A howl later and she'd thrown her arms around Rube, burying her head in the soft leather of his coat.

I'd cried on that coat before. If you had to have a breakdown, it was a good way to go. Then I realized Rube was looking at me, and he was starting to look just a little bit panicked.

'Boyfriend?' he mouthed. With a snort of laughter I realized that Rube had no idea who Murray was. I'd spent so much time buried in Delores's obsession that the possibility that the entire world didn't know Murray was completely foreign. But then, most people didn't get passionate about other people's cats.

'Cat,' I mouthed back. Rube nodded, reaching up and rubbing Delores's back while she cried on his shoulder. He'd always been good at that. You could lose it with Rube and know he'd still respect you after. Lord knows he'd sat through enough of my rants for me to know. It made perfect sense that he'd understand Delores cracking up over a stupid, stinky cat.

"I'm sorry." Delores sniffled, lifting her head and giving Rube a teary smile. "You're here to see Millie, not have me blubber all over you."

"Grieving is a natural part of the process when you lose someone you love. Don't ever be sorry for that. Murray was special to you. Don't sully his memory by apologizing." Rube reached out and tweaked the end of her nose. "But I was hoping I could steal Ge…Millie, for a little bit. This whole coming back to life thing has been a little discombobulating, I could use her help."

Smooth talking bastard always knew just what to say. Of course Delores said yes. In fact, she gave me the rest of the afternoon off. Which was how Rube and I wound up walking down the sunny street watching the cars go by as we made our way to a double suicide.

Talk about showing a girl a good time.


	6. Chapter 6

It was hot. Probably a weird thing to be thinking about after a reap, but hey. After seven years, all reaps start to look the same. And it was hot. So all I could think about when I stepped out of the piano shop after sending our little souls on their way was the sun baking my face and the dozen or so freckles "Millie" was going to have tomorrow morning. Should have grabbed some of Daisy's UV foundation that morning. Not just to keep my naturally beautiful skin…well, naturally beautiful (like there was any chance of that happening)…but also because she'd have an apoplexy and that was always a worthwhile part of my day.

I was still bitter about the vacuum thing.

"So…I guess I should probably get back to work. I'm sure you've got places to be, right?"

Rube turned his head. That's it. Just his head. I'm sure he was making some kind of weird, Rube-ish face at me, but since you couldn't see his eyes behind those godawful sunglasses that covered half his face it was hard to tell.

"Trying to get rid of me, Peanut?"

It took me a second. It wasn't what he said, it was how he said it. I mean, the words weren't that big a deal. He'd probably said them to me a thousand times in the last five years, usually because I _was _trying to ditch him and he was calling me out on it, but that wasn't the point. The point was, this time he said them like he actually meant them. Like it actually mattered whether I wanted him along on this stupid reap or not. Which it didn't, because he was the boss and could pretty much come along any time he pleased.

"No, just…I figured you'd have a bunch of back from the dead stuff to do, that's all. I was trying to be nice. Jeez, is that so hard to believe?"

Even I heard the whiny snap in my voice. Here we go.

"No." Rube's voice was easy as we strolled down the street. "I'm supposed to be taking you out today, remember? I've got nowhere else to be."

Right. Our little fib to Delores. I guess, theoretically, it was going to look pretty shitty if she stumbled over me later on after our whole "back from the dead" story. I mean, he was supposed to be my sponsor, we were supposed to be friends, yadda yadda yadda, but what were the odds? Not like she stalked me around town.

Then again, the way my day was going…I was better off sticking with Rube.

"So, are they seriously going to transfer one of us if we fuck up?"

The question had been gnawing at the back of my mind since I'd left the artsy little breakfast place. Rube sighed, placing a hand on my back to guide me around a group taking pictures while he figured out the best way to tell me absolutely nothing in as many words as possible.

"You know what? Forget it. No, really," I said when he gave me that exasperated, 'Why the hell did you ask if you weren't going to let me answer?' look. "You wouldn't have to think about it this hard if you could tell us, which means upper management doesn't want us to know. Which means you're just going to have to come up with some bullshit way to spin it. I blasted a cat into outer space yesterday, I'm way too tired for bullshit. So…forget it."

Picking up the pace, I hustled down the street. There were people everywhere-some kind of street fair. The air was full of music from the street musicians camped out on the corner and the popcorn, pretzels, hot dogs and other assorted wonders being hawked from carts lined up and down the street. I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Wonder if I could talk Rube into buying me a cotton candy after our reap?

The thought had me snorting with laughter. There was a time, not that long ago, when the whole "eating after a reap" thing would have grossed me out. Now it didn't seem to matter how they died, or how much blood I was covered in after the fact, I was always starving afterwards.

Hey, taking souls takes a lot out of you.

I stopped to let a mime dressed in black with a huge plastic daisy on his suspenders do the wall scoot right in front of me. He winked when he went past, and it made me smile. God, what did it say about the day I'd been having that getting winked at by a mime qualified as a highlight?

"Peanut!" Rube had wandered over to a small booth sporting a red umbrella on the far side of the sidewalk and was hunched over a small cardboard box filled with…something. Standing up, he nodded to the fat, jowly vendor and turned to drop that _something_ in my arms, where it promptly turned and started licking my face.

"What the hell? Rube, this is a _dog!_" I held my face back from its excited little puppy tongue, but the wiggly ball of fluff was part golden retriever, part traveling salesman, and so darn cute I couldn't stop myself from scratching his ears, and his back, and any other part of him I could reach.

"He's going to be big. Make somebody a good guard dog one of these days."

Clipping a leash to the pup's collar, Rube set the dog down on the ground. It immediately sniffed around before running over and emptying his bladder on the bus stop bench.

"Classy," I said dryly. Dear god, how did something so little pee so much?

"Give him time." Rube passed me the leash. "What are you going to call him?"

"You're joking. Not joking." Those black eyes were just staring at me. "Rube! What the hell am I going to do with a _dog?"_

"Walk it? Feed it? Let it sleep on the end of your bed at night?" Rube shrugged, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Two women living alone ought to have a dog running around to keep out the riffraff."

"Too late. Mason already lives there."

Raising his eyebrows, Rube tipped his head. Point to me. Scowling, I looked down at the pup. He'd finished doing his business and was happily chasing a feather back and forth across the sidewalk, growling his little puppy growls. Damn it. He was cute. And apparently the last one in the litter, since the guy with the box had folded it up and stuck it in a trash can. If I gave him back, he was going to be going home alone.

"Why don't you take him?"

"I don't need a dog."

"Neither do I!"

He knew I was going to cave. I knew I was going to cave. At this point, we were just arguing to argue. We were really good at it.

And Daisy was going to freak when she found out Rube bought us a dog.

The image of what Daisy was going to do when I brought home a puppy and told her Rube said we had to keep it was enough to put a big, fat smile on my face. He was a great dog.

"Who's a good puppy?" I cooed, crouching down and stretching out my hand. "Who's the bestest little doggie in the world?"

The little dog gamboled his way over, tripping over his feet in the process, then started licking my fingers while his little tail wagged so hard it made his butt shake. His tongue was raspy and wet, and I was pretty sure there was a steady stream of drool running beneath my hand. Oh yeah. Daisy was going to love him.

"George," I said firmly, scratching the little dog behind his ears. "I'm going to call him George."

Rube didn't say anything for a minute, just crouched down next to me and started petting the dog. People were starting to give us dirty looks for blocking the sidewalk. I didn't give a shit.

"George is a good name," he said finally.

"Damn straight. George is a great name."

Turning my head I grinned at him, that grin getting just a little bigger when I realized he was grinning back. I think we were actually having a moment here-a moment when we weren't driving each other completely insane. Huh. Who'd have thought?

Should have known that wouldn't last long.

"Geor-I mean, Millie, hey! Nice dog!"

Oh fuck. I stiffened, standing up and turning around slowly. Yep. That voice belonged to exactly who I thought that voice belonged to. My wonderful little sister, whose timing hadn't managed to get any better since I died. Ever.

Reggie was sporting her stylish ice-cream shop uniform and grinning hugely at the slobbering, drooling bundle of fur that had run over and started licking the toes poking out of her highly un-regulation sandals. Crap. It suddenly dawned on me that we were right across the street from where she worked. Next to me Rube stood up, pushing his glasses on top of his head and staring with his most Rube-ish expression.

George flopped down at her feet, rolling over so she could scratch his stomach, which she proceeded to do with gusto. Little attention whore. Maybe he and Daisy would get along after all.

"Millie," said Rube coolly, putting his hand on my shoulder and squeezing harder than was absolutely necessary. "Who's your friend?"


	7. Chapter 7

I could feel all of the brownie points I'd managed to rack up by not being part of that whole clusterfuck-up with Cameron Kane leaking out the window. Reggie looked back and forth between Rube and I, her face scrunching up in confusion. I saw one hand carefully slipping toward the cell phone in her pocket and couldn't help a quick, secret victory dance of approval. Good girl. Always have an exit plan.

"Millie, is this guy bothering you?"

"Like you would not believe," I said dryly, "but I don't really get a choice. Reggie, this is my boss, Rube Sofer. Rube, this is Reggie Lass."

"Miss Lass." Rube's voice was painfully polite as he reached out to shake her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Mr. Sofer." Reggie frowned at Rube, trying to connect the dots. "I thought you worked for that crazy cat lady over at Happy Time."

"I do."

I was really hoping she wouldn't figure it out until after I left-or at least, until after Rube was out of earshot. Unfortunately, I apparently needed to work on my death glare a little more. She didn't get the hint.

"Oh! So you're in charge of the…ah…other stuff."

Her eyes were huge, jerking from me to Rube and back again. Yeah, now she remembers she's not supposed to know about reapers.

"Ow! Damn it Rube, you're cutting off my circulation," I complained, wriggling out from under his hand.

"You're lucky that's all I'm cutting off," he muttered, just low enough so Reggie wouldn't hear, then smiled and turned on the charm. "Excuse us Miss Lass, we have to get Millie's new dog home. She'll have to catch up with you some other time."

Not waiting for Reggie's answer, he spun me around and started hauling me down the street. I just barely managed to wriggle around enough to lift my hand to my ear and mouth, "Call me!" over his shoulder before the crowd filled in and Reggie was out of sight.

That way, if he decided to slap me on assignment in South Africa, or sell me into human slavery or some freaky shit like that, at least someone was going to know about it.

He made it off the main street and around the corner before he snapped, spinning me around and pinning me up against the wall.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"Thinking about what?"

Apparently I wasn't going to get out of this by playing dumb.

"Don't get cute with me, George. She knows, doesn't she?" When I didn't answer, he shook my shoulders hard enough to make my brain rattle. "Doesn't she?"

"Ow! Jesus. Yes. She knows."

"God damn it." Shoving back, he paced away, yanking off his cap and dragging his fingers through what was left of his hair. I'd almost forgotten about the poor dog, who I just realized was cowering behind my feet-and who had just peed on my shoes. Joy. "Same old George. I thought we were past this shit."

"We were. We are!" I added quickly at his look of naked disgust. "Look, you don't understand."

"I don't understand?" Rube walked back over, slamming his hands against the wall on either side of my head so I was trapped between him and the hard red brick. A quick shiver of fear snaked down my back. Technically, I knew Rube wouldn't hurt me. He might transfer me, but he wasn't going to hurt me. But looking at the pissed-off look on his face, I was suddenly afraid I'd finally managed to go too far-and that I really wasn't going to like the consequences. "I think I understand this mess just fine."

"You don't understand shit." Suddenly furious, I slammed my hands against his chest. He didn't move. Well, crap. "Look, her boyfriend was dying, but I couldn't reap him until he got to tell her goodbye. And his bitch of a girlfriend didn't know they were dating, so she wouldn't let Reggie in the room. So I had to drag her back there. And yes, I told her who I was. She just lost her fucking boyfriend, Rube. She needed her big sister."

My last words echoed off the walls of the alley. Rube just stood there, glaring at me while I sucked in air like a runner finishing the Boston marathon. I wasn't going to apologize for being there for my sister. Wasn't going to happen. And if that got me transferred to California or New York or fucking Siberia, I didn't care. I'd done the right thing.

I have no idea how long we stood there, trapped in our own version of a Mexican standoff, but Rube finally stepped back and nodded.

"All right."

Wait, what? It took a second for my reeling head to realize that was actually what he said, and not just some figment of my extremely messed up imagination.

"All right?"

"All right." Scooping up the puppy, Rube unclipped the leash and started walking, forcing me to run in the hideous heels I'd pulled on that morning for my day job in hell if I wanted to keep up with him.

"Wait, that's it? Just, all right?"

He stopped then, turning to face me. He didn't look pissed off anymore, he just looked…tired.

"What do you want me to say? That you fucked up? You fucked up. But I don't have any orders to transfer you, so someone decided you didn't fuck up that bad. Which blows my fucking mind, but there you go. Besides." His mouth quirked into a smile. "What do I know? I was there when my Rosie died. She looked me right in the eyes and called me papa. And she died with a smile on her face. Those moments matter, Peanut."

Wow. Okay, so not what I was expecting him to say. We stared at each other for a minute, neither one of us really knowing what happened next. Did we talk about this? Go on like nothing happened?

Then my stomach growled, Rube laughed, and life was easy again.

"You know." I tucked an arm through Rube's and started walking again. "Between the dead guy that showed up at my office today and the two dead guys we had to reap, I totally blew my lunch break. Want to drop the mutt off with Daisy, then go get something to eat?"

Rube looked over and arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You buying?"

"Sure, why not?"

Snickering, I pulled him down the street. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't worried about what was going to happen when Rube found out about Reggie. It was never 'if' he found out. The man heard about everything, sooner or later. But even though I knew he'd broken the rules to be there when his daughter died, I hadn't really stopped to consider the idea that were all doing this for the same reasons. That maybe he needed to be there for her the way I'd needed to be there for Reggie. It felt good, knowing he got it.

Looked like we were going to be okay after all.


	8. Chapter 8

"He didn't even yell at you a little? Well, that's not bloody fair," Mason grumbled irritably from his spot on the couch, where he'd been slumped for over an hour dipping into a giant bowl of popcorn and watching random 90's sitcoms like the stupid laugh track held the secret to life.

"No. It was weird. I expected him to rip my head off, but…he didn't say anything. Just handed me my Post-It, got up and walked out." Daisy sat at the table, filing her nails and kicking irritably at the pup cheerfully chewing on the ears of her pink bunny slippers. "Damn it George, knock it off!"

"What? I didn't do anything!"

It was childish, but I couldn't help myself. I couldn't. I tried, I swear, but there was something about watching the way George got under her skin that made me look for excuses to hang out with Daisy more often. The look on her face when she reached down and picked up the soggy lump of fur, watching in disgust as a blob of drool rolled down its shiny pink nose, completely justified the extra laundry I was going to have to do to clean up his mess.

"Very funny Georgia. Ugh!" Delicately tucking her feet beneath her on the chair, she glared under the table. "I'll have you know men have sold their souls for the privilege of licking those toes, thank you very much." That glare turned in my direction, her lips puckering up the way they did when she wanted you to think she was serious about what she was about to say. "Georgia, really, when are you going to teach your dog some manners?"

"My dog?" I blinked innocently. "Rube said it was _our_ dog. Which means you're just as responsible for it as I am. If you don't like what he's doing, tell him to stop. _I_ think his little foot fetish is cute."

"You wouldn't if you'd woken up to him nibbling on your feet at four in the morning." Daisy pushed back from the table, rolling out of her chair and down the hall to throw the dripping slipper into the laundry room. "The wretched beast has decided he's in love with me."

I could have said it was Daisy being melodramatic, in true Daisy style, but she wasn't wrong. George had taken one look at the blonde sitting on the couch staring at him in distaste the day I brought him home and fallen completely, irrevocably in love. He slept at the foot of her bed (when she finally fell asleep and stopped kicking him off), wouldn't eat breakfast until she was in the kitchen, and generally followed her around like…

Well, like a lovesick puppy. It was _great_.

"Dogs are great." Mason leaned back against the back of the couch, holding his popcorn up in the air and waving it around. Kernels fell all over the floor. George was on them like white on rice. Another perk of having a dog around. I spent a lot less time cleaning up other people's mess. "I had a dog once."

"Oh yeah? What happened to it?"

Mason just stared at me. Probably forgot what he was talking about already. The half-empty bottle of Bourbon lying on the floor next to him, and the totally empty six pack sitting in my recycling bin, gave his eyes a glassy tinge and made trying to talk to him a complete waste of time.

He'd been drinking a lot lately. I couldn't blame him.

It had been two weeks since Rube found out about Reggie. I was right. Any bonus points I'd managed to earn for not being part of the whole Cameron Kane Fan Club (I think he was still a little pissed at just how fast our merry little band of reapers jumped on Kane's candy cane express) just went bloop! like they never existed. Rube had been up our collective asses like a bad enema ever since he got back. He'd accused me of being a constipator not long after I died. I don't know what the opposite of constipator was, but whatever it was, he was it. Every time he was around, shit flew everywhere.

And he was around a _lot_ these days. I sort of missed the days when he just gave us our Post-Its at breakfast and said he didn't want to see our faces for the rest of day. Now he was there every time I turned around, checking up on us, making sure we didn't fuck up (again) and land everyone's butt in a sling. I'm not sure if Upper Management actually told him to keep that close an eye on us or if it was just his passive-aggressive way of paying us back for the fact that he was stuck here and not slurping Mai Tais on some celestial beach.

Didn't help that it was, like, a thousand degrees outside. Or that the gravelings had found a new hobby-shorting out air conditioners. Everyone was hot and cranky, which meant the murder rate was through the roof. I'd actually had to take a sick day to deal with ten-count them, ten-reaps last Wednesday. All I'd done for the last week and a half was eat, sleep and reap.

To make things even better, the gravelings hit Happy Time. There was no way that was an accident. The little creeps wanted to watch me suffer. They even made sure to hit it somewhere in the middle of their weird spree, which meant that all the companies who were even remotely qualified to come out and fix it were so backed up that it was going to be, like, two weeks before they could get out and take a look. So now the building was so hot that Delores had us all coming in overnight instead. Half of the businesses in town were shut down thanks to this heat wave anyway. It worked.

But between the crime wave and the heat wave, I wasn't getting nearly as much of the "sleep" portion of that whole 'eat, sleep, reap' thing as I would have liked. Reap all day, work all night. At least someone had been nice enough to put most of my reaps early in the morning, so I could usually stagger home and get at least three or four hours of sleep before I had to go back to Happy Time. But after a week and a half, my brain was mushier than Mason's. I was exhausted. Which meant I made stupid mistakes. Which meant Rube yelled at me. A lot.

"Um, hello? We were talking about me here, remember? Not the stupid dog." Daisy twirled her hair around her finger, looking insanely annoyed. "There's something going on. He's been a tyrant for weeks. Then this, and he doesn't say a word?"

Mason groaned, tipping his head back against the couch. "Daisy love, we're always talking about you." He tossed a piece of popcorn up in the air, catching it in his mouth. Pig. "Why don't you just take the get out of jail free card and enjoy it? I'm sure he'll be back to his usual cranky self tomorrow. Enjoy the break while you've got it."

"I don't know Mason." Daisy twirled her hair again, leaning nervously against the window. "It's not like him."

As much as it pained me to admit it, Daisy had a point. I didn't have all the details (hell, I didn't _want_ all of the details) but from what I'd caught from her conversation with Mason, she'd tried to reap the wrong person. She had no way of knowing her guy had an identical twin, or that he would decide at exactly the wrong moment to pretend to be his brother so said brother could duck behind the shed with the very hot, very blonde gardener without his wife finding out at their family reunion. Didn't matter. She hadn't realized her mistake until the right brother tripped over his pants and managed to land a very delicate piece of equipment on a very sharp garden tool.

Thank god it was a lot harder to reap a soul from a body that was still technically supposed to be living unless you were seriously pissed, the way Roxy was the time she rage reaped the asshole that eventually built her a shrine, and that Daisy had been doing this whole reaper gig long enough to realize something wasn't right, or we'd have had a problem. As it was, Rube should have gone off when he found out. Instead, he'd just looked up from his paper, grunted, then slid out of his chair and walked away.

I didn't like it. Rube was never too distracted to yell at one of us. Something was up. The question was whether we'd find out what it was before or after it managed to crawl up and bite us in the ass.


	9. Chapter 9

"All you have to do is file, check the numbers against a code, and mark the ones that are out of place. Do you think you can handle that?"

By this point I was talking very, veeeeeeeeery slowly in the hope that I'd get something besides a smile and a nod. It didn't seem to make a difference. The idiot in front of me just bobbed her perky head, her perky blonde ponytail keeping time with the stupid (and strangely perky) jingle bells hanging off her ears. Jingle bells.

Now look. I love Christmas just as much as the next guy, but unless she was auditioning for the part of the chipper elf for some store's Christmas in July (which we _weren't _staffing, thank you god) nobody needs to be wearing jingle bells in the middle of summer. Their happy little tinkling noise was keeping time with my throbbing head, and if I didn't get her out of here soon I was going to kill somebody.

Cut me some slack, I'd had a crappy morning. Ever hear the phrase, "Silent as the grave"? After this morning, I was going with "Silent as the reaper". Seriously. If the man spoke three words to any of us beyond "You, you, you, you" when he passed around our post-its, I didn't hear them. Which, of course, meant I spent all of breakfast hunched over my waffle-with-extra-crispy-bacon waiting for the other shoe to drop. Which gave me a crick in my neck. Which gave me a headache.

Then my reap managed to spray blood all over my favorite trousers, so I had to go home and change-which, since my reap was right next to Happy Time and I'd counted on being about to get here in ten minutes or less, made me seriously late. And now I was stuck here trying to find a job for Rainbow Sparkles-a-lot. I tell ya, some days it don't pay to be me. At least, not enough to make it worth it. So you can imagine my oh-so-feigned surprise when Delores poked her head into the room with her best management smile, which made Sparkles jingle even more, and asked to see me.

"Oh, thank god." I leaned over to bang my head against Delores's arm. "I owe you big time."

Delores peered around my shoulder, then smiled and waved. I didn't even have to turn around to know that Sparkles (I had no clue what her real name was, which shows you how much I gave a crap about making sure she was gainfully employed) was probably waving back.

"She seems very sweet."

"She was singing the alphabet song while she took her test because she couldn't remember what came after 'C'."

"Oh." Delores frowned, peering over at her again. "That doesn't sound good at all, does it?"

"She jingles, Delores. I mean seriously jingles." I shuddered as the morning played back in instant replay. "She smiles a lot, says "like" so much you can barely tell she's speaking English, and gets ridiculously excited at the mention of Justin Bieber."

"Now Millie, don't be such a grump. You could do with a little jingle yourself," Delores said chidingly. Then, leaning in so she was close enough to whisper very, very loudly in my ear, she added conspiratorially, "You are still getting jingled every now and then, aren't you?"

Oh god. Where's a graveling when you need one? In a toss-up between dealing with Sparkles and discussing my sex life-or the pathetic lack thereof-in the middle of the office with my boss, I'd take death by piano any day. Before I could come up with a creative way to tell her I wasn't getting any jingling that _wouldn't_ lead to another invitation to a sex toys party with her middle-aged cronies, however, I saw a familiar blonde head talking to Crystal.

There was a day when I would have been pissed that my little sister came to see me at work. This was not that day.

"Reggie!"

I stuck my hand in the air and waved wildly, smiling so hard my cheeks may have actually cracked. Delores stepped back, looking from me to Reggie in surprise.

"Millie!" Reggie came over and pulled me into a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around her and held on. After seven years of watching my sister screw up her life and not getting to yell at her for it, being able to hug her felt pretty damn good.

"Well, Millie. You're full of surprises lately." Delores was beaming like a mother bird whose chick just snarfed down a huge pile of regurgitated bird vomit. "Who's your friend?"

"I'm Reggie, G- Millie's sister." Reggie politely held out her hand. Delores's eyes nearly popped out of her head. Boy howdy, here we go.

"Millie! I didn't know you had a sister."

"I don't. I mean, I do," I amended when Reggie gave me a hurt look and Delores frowned in disapproval. "Reggie's my little sister. I mean, not my _real_ little sister, my-uh…"

"Millie and I were in the Big Brothers, Big Sisters program together, when I was younger." Reggie had always been the smart one. Good of her to remember _now_ that I was living under a nom de plume. "I hadn't seen her for years. Then I ran into her a few weeks ago and she mentioned she was working here. I thought since I was in the neighborhood, I'd stop by and see her."

"Oh, how wonderful. Millie, you didn't tell me you were a Big Sister. I was a big sister once," she confided to Reggie with a suspicious twinkle in her eye, "to a little girl from Africa. She didn't speak a word of English, and I didn't speak any of her tribal language, but we still made beautiful music together."

Oh boy. The hands were folded, a sure sign Delores was getting ready to rhapsodize about her seriously messed-up past. I loved the woman, I really did, but I just wasn't up for it today.

"Listen, Delores, since Reggie's here do you mind if I take my lunch a little early? We have a lot to catch up on." I was counting on Delores's chronic love of girl talk to get me out of there. Sure enough, it worked like a charm.

"Oh, of course. And don't worry about her," she said, nodding her head knowingly toward the girl in the conference room I was supposed to be interviewing. Oops. I'd completely forgotten about her. "I'll put her with Jason over at Lil' Put-Put instead."

Polishing golf clubs all day. Sounded right up her alley.

"That would be great Delores." Leaning forward, I planted an impulsive kiss on her cheek. Not my usual style, but Delores loved stupid stuff like that. "Thanks a lot."

"Yeah, thanks Mrs…um…"

"Oh, you just call me Delores sweetie." I winced in sympathy when Delores reached out and squeezed Reggie's cheek. "Don't be such a stranger, you hear? Any friend of Millie's is a friend of mine-of all of ours here at Happy Time."

"Right, well. Thanks again Delores. We'll see you later." Grabbing Reggie's hand, I dragged her over to my desk, grabbed my purse and headed for the door before Delores could change her mind.

Neither one of us said anything until we hit the street. Then Reggie muttered, "Dear god, she's worse than mom."

"Not even close." The two of us snickered comfortably. "How is mom?"

"Ah…" Reggie stopped walking right in the middle of the sidewalk, sticking her hands in the pockets of her skirt, then pulling them out to play with the stitching on the hem while the guys that had been walking behind us pushed their way past. My eyes narrowed suspiciously. She'd done the same thing the day she stole my classic ceramic Kermit and sold it for a quarter to a boy in her first grade class. Nothing good could come of this. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

**A/N: Oh dear, what is Reggie up to now? Thanks for staying tuned darlings, and for chiming in with your wonderful thoughts and opinions. I love you all. I have the distinct pleasure of hosting my in-laws for the next week or so, so I can't make any promises about when the next chapter's going to work its way out of my head and onto the screen, but I do promise to make it as soon as possible! In the meantime, I'd love to hear your thoughts on exactly what's going on at the Lass house!**


	10. Chapter 10

"Reggie, what the hell are you talking about? Is mom okay?"

When I was alive I'd hated my mom. I don't mean in that pathetic, teenage rebellion kind of way. I mean I hated her. If I could have signed a petition asking the earth to open up and swallow her whole so I could get a little peace, I would have. She felt the same way about me. At least, I thought she did.

They say you don't realize what you had till it's gone. I'm changing that to, "You don't know what you've got till you're dead." Death is like the great divide. You always assume there's going to be time to say you're sorry, to figure things out if you don't get them right the first time. But there's not. Once you're dead, that's it. Finis. Finito. There's no going back. Whatever relationships you screwed up when you were alive, you're going to have to live with being screwed up forever. And if you're lucky enough to be dead like me (which is, not really) you get to enjoy it for the rest of your unnatural existence until you finally manage to suck enough souls to get some lights of your own.

It's ironic, really. It took dying to make us realize that neither one of us wanted the other one dead.

"No, mom's fine. As crazy as ever." Reggie rolled her eyes, then started down at her feet, scuffing what looked like a new pair of shoes against the concrete. Mom would have gone apeshit. Little sis had learned well. "It's just…we were supposed to go on vacation, get the hell out of here for a while, you know? Get away from all of this." Looking up, Reggie winced apologetically. "Get away from you."

Ouch. Impulsively, I pulled Reggie into a hug, grinning a little when she stumbled over her feet. All right, it was cheesy, but…sometimes you just need a hug. She'd had a crappy summer so far. And since I spent my summers being dead, that was saying something.

"I'm glad you're okay with that," she said dryly. But she squeezed me back.

"Hey, there are days _I _want to get away from me. I definitely don't hold it against you."

"Thanks for that." Letting go, she stepped back and sucked in her breath. "Here's the thing. We go all the way across the country, then Mom's agent calls. Mom's been invited to speak at some two-week retreat out in New York. I guess it's a huge deal, and she didn't want to say no. And since the point of this stupid vacation was to get away from death…"

"You didn't want to go with her and waste two perfectly good weeks in New York listening to her wallow in it?"

"Right." Reggie bit her lip. "The thing is, I kind of…told her I saw you."

"You _what?" _Oh shit. I was a dead girl. I mean, an even deader dead girl. Throwing my arms up in the air I swung around in a circle a couple of times, until the world was spinning and it was all I could do just to stand up straight. This was it. Once Rube found out about this, it was all over.

"Relax. She didn't believe me. She thinks I'm having a nervous breakdown." Reggie rolled her eyes again. Even though I was about three seconds from blowing my top and strangling my sweet little baby sister in the middle of the street, you had to admire the way she'd managed to pick up some of my better qualities. "Apparently some of the bullshit she read when she was writing her book talked about how grief can make people hallucinate, and how it's not safe to leave them alone. So she wouldn't let me stay home unless I told her I was staying with someone."

"You told her you were staying with _me_?" Yeah, that was going to do wonders for mom's belief in her sanity.

"Please. I'm not _that_ stupid." Hey! I resemble that remark. "I told her I was staying with my friend Shannon. But Shannon's actually in Europe for the summer, and mom's got people coming by to check on the house. So I don't have a place to stay."

'Please tell me she's not going to say what I think she's going to say. Please tell me she's not going to say what I think she's going to say. Please tell me…'

"I was hoping I could crash at your place. Just until mom gets back."

Shit. She said it.

"Look, I'm a good roommate, I swear. I clean up after myself, and I have a job. I can pay rent, help buy groceries." When I didn't say anything, her eyes turned pleading. "C'mon George. I know you said I couldn't live with you, but it's just for the summer. And you owe me."

"Excuse me?" Okay, I got it. I did. And the thought of having Reggie come stay with me for the summer was honestly pretty exciting. It was the sort of thing we might have done if I hadn't, you know, died and stuff. But I didn't owe her shit.

"Oh, c'mon." Reggie tossed her head back, the pleading look turning royally pissed off. "You've been skulking around here for what, seven years now, without bothering to tell anyone? Without bothering to drop me a line and say, 'Hey, the afterlife is great, wish you were here!'"

"That's not fair!"

"Yeah, well, neither is this." Crossing her arms over her chest, Reggie planted her feet and glared. "You were always a selfish pain in the ass when you were alive. You. Owe. Me. Pay up."

I wanted to blow up at her. I wanted to ask her why she wanted to stay with me if I was such a selfish pain in the ass. I wanted to tell her she could solve her own damn housing problems. Then I looked at her, really looked, without imagining how nice it would feel to wrap my hands around her neck and throttle the little brat. Her eyes might have been staring daggers, but it was through a sheen of tears. Her lips were clenched, but they were trembling, and her skin was starting to get blotchy. Shit. She was going to cry.

You know those moments on TV where the little light bulb goes on over dude's head, and he finally gets it? I mean, really _gets_ it? I don't usually have those moments. My revelations are more like someone slamming my head into the concrete until my brains splatter everywhere. Then, when they're done, I scoop them all up and shove them back in and everything's rearranged-and somewhere in that scramble, things start to make sense.

The girl was so adorably clueless. Then again, when I was her age, I didn't think anyone wanted me around either.

"You're such a brat." I waited a second, just to put the right amount of suspense in there. "Fine."

"Fine?" Reggie frowned, like she wasn't sure she heard me right. Jesus, what was the girl, deaf?

"Yeah, all right. Pack your shit. You can stay with me. But _just_ for the summer." I paused for a second, thinking, then added, "And if mom finds out, it's your ass, not mine, got it?"

"Got it." She grinned, bounced excitedly for a minute, then pulled me into another hug. Ah, the resilience of youth. Squeezing her back, I couldn't do anything to stop the shit-eating grin I could feel sliding across my face. This was going to be fun.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: Hello all I know, I know, I haven't updated in, like, forever. Copious apologies to all of you (and to those of you who have been DM'ing me-I'm not getting my notifications!). I finished posting a chapter to another one of my fics a couple of weeks ago, and when I said it drained me dry I didn't know I meant it literally! I think I fried my synapses, because I haven't written anything worth reading in weeks! But then this (admittedly short) chapter started taking shape, and I'm very, very pleased to finally be able to share it with all of you!**_

"Well, this is it. Home sweet home." Stepping back, I waved Reggie into the dark living room.

"It's….nice." She sounded about as psyched as I had been about the first apartment I swiped after I died. Looking around my house, I tried to see it the way she would. What I saw made me cringe. All right, so the lady that had it before she croaked and Mason took over had been, like, a million years old. And except for the giant walk-in closet we'd put in Daisy's rooms about six months after we moved in so we wouldn't have to share (I swear to God, the woman had more clothes than Macy's) and a bigger fridge so Mason would have a place to put his beer, we hadn't done anything with the place. The same hand-crocheted afghan was still over the back of the couch, the doilies Daisy nagged me to bleach every Sunday were still on the tables.

The nude mermaid carved out of wood Mason had grabbed at a yard sale sat in the middle of the room. Wonder how loud Mom was going to scream when Reggie told her about it (and she would, just to piss her off) because it was WAY too heavy to haul out of the house to protect what was left of my baby sister's virgin eyes. She was just going to have to grow up and get over it. There was a lot of that going around these days.

"You'll be crashing in my room." Bending down, I scooped up the handle on the massive suitcase she brought with her. Jesus Christ, how long was she planning to stay? I had a horse step on me in summer camp one time. Pretty sure it weighed less than Reggie's portable closet. "Daisy's got an air mattress in her room for when Roxy gets too drunk and ends up passing out over here. It's all yours."

"Um…thanks?" Reggie looked around again, her nose scrunching up just a little. "It's cute. Seriously. Very….homey." She'd pulled her hair back in a Pocahontas version of the pigtails I was used to seeing her in, and with one of those stupid little rosebud halter tops that would have made me look like a Strawberry Shortcake blow-up doll and puke pink shorts, she looked like she was ten years old again. Except for the breasts. I was going to ask Rube to drop a note to Upper Management asking why Reggie got all the breasts in the family. It really wasn't fair. Unless mom let her get a boob job. That _really _wasn't fair. I'd begged for _years_. If she let Reggie pump up her bra size, I was waiting for Halloween. Then I was going to haunt her ass.

"Thanks…I think."

"Hey Georgie Porgie pudding and pie, who's this?"

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I didn't know Mason was home. I know, I know, I couldn't hide Reggie from him forever. But it seemed like she should have at least had time to unpack before she had to meet my perverted, alcoholic roommate. "She's cute," he added lasciviously, walking backwards to circle her like a shark. "Can I keep her?" His scruffy jean jacket, ratty-assed jeans and some holey t-shirt left over from the 60's that could probably still give you a contact buzz if you looked close enough made him look like the kind of guy mom would have sent to prison just for looking in our direction.

Of course, Roxy had to pick that precise moment to walk in, proudly sporting her badge, her mace…and her gun. Gee, the gang's all here. Wonder where Daisy was? I couldn't help a quick smile when I realized George's leash wasn't on its hook. Well, that answered that question. He must have been lonely, and since Daisy didn't work for a living like _some_ of us did, he probably licked her ankles until she agreed to take him out.

"Mason, leave that girl alone before I have to plug you." Roxy spun the 9mm on her finger before blowing an imaginary puff of smoke off the top. "Ah!" she said when he opened his mouth. "Just give me a reason." Turning to my sister, Roxy smiled and stuck out a hand. "You must be Reggie. Rube told me you were on your way over, and I should come over and threaten to shoot Mason before he started giving you a hard time."

"I'm not giving her a hard time," Mason protested. Then he stopped and thought about it for a minute. "Not that I couldn't give her a hard time. If she wanted me to. I'm perfectly capable of giving a girl a hard time, right Roxy?"

Roxy just rolled her eyes. "Don't pay him no mind, sweet pea. He tried to lobotomize himself before he died. Unfortunately, he only did half the job. If he'd have done the whole thing he could have just been another brain-dead body in the morgue, and the rest of us wouldn't have to put up with him."

Oh boy. I wasn't sure what was creepier, that Roxy, who didn't like _anybody_ the first sixteen times she met them, was practically fawning all over my little sister, or that Rube apparently already knew about it and had sent Roxy over to make Reggie feel welcome. Reggie. Who he didn't really want me to have anything to do with, even if Upper Management had more or less railroaded him into dealing with it. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I started patting my pockets. I wouldn't put it past him to have me bugged, just for the hell of it.

"Ah." Reggie politely shook Roxy's hand, but between Mason practically slobbering all over her shoulder and Roxy standing there flashing a badge, the poor kid was terrified. I figured introductions were in order. Then she'd probably still be terrified, but at least it would be for the right reasons.

"Reggie, this is my friend Roxy. Roxy, Reggie."

"What about me?" Mason whined. "I'm George's friend too. Her very, very good friend. Practically family. Really."

Rolling my eyes, I crossed my arms over my chest and muttered sullenly, "The jackass is my roommate Mason. Mason, this is my sister Reggie. If you hit on her again, I swear to God you will be eating our own testicles. Do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am!" Mason snapped me a salute, then turned and lifted Reggie's fingers to his lips. "Madamoiselle Lass, it's my very great pleasure."

Let it never be said that Mason didn't know how to kiss copious amounts of ass. I wasn't sure whether to laugh of bang my head into the wall when Reggie flushed and started flirting back. Sure, Mason was charming. At first. She'd learn.

"Listen, Mason, I'm going to get Reg settled in. Why don't go find a hole and like, lick yourself or something?"

There are some serious downsides to immortality. Once upon a time, Mason would have actually had the decency to be offended by that. Now he just shrugged, bending down to start playing with the zipper on Reggie's bags. Before I could pick up the bag and beat him into blissful unconsciousness with it, Reggie grabbed my shoulder.

"George," she said softly, her voice quivering just a little. "What the hell is that?"

Following her gaze, I flinched when I saw the dark shape hanging on the outside of the window, trying desperately to wedge its fingers through the screen. Well shit. This day just kept getting better and better.


	12. Chapter 12

"Oh hell Georgie. I can't leave you alone for a second without having bloody gravelings hanging off of the windows." Huffing in frustration, Mason turned around and went to go get the broom we'd affectionately dubbed our "graveling whacker". Jerk. This was _so_ not my fault. Those "bloody gravelings" had been everywhere lately-following me down the street, peeking through the windows of Happy Time, even when they weren't up to no good, and yes, hanging out in my windows.

In fact, they'd been almost obnoxiously present ever since Rube got back. And that was just wrong in so many ways. Maybe I should say something to Rube. He usually knew what it meant when this freaky crap started to happen. But he'd been working so hard to deliberately distance himself from us while he was playing boss that it hadn't really seemed like a good idea. I liked my head where it was. And now it looked like I was going to have to fess up twice, because you weren't supposed to see gravelings. The fact that Reaper Me could see them perfectly was unusual. That I'd seen them when I was a kid was almost unheard of. (Kids saw things better than adults. Made me wonder what else we gave up along the way.)

That my very, very human sister could see them was a problem.

"I guess there's no chance you didn't see that, is there?" I asked Reggie hopefully. She was still staring at the window in disbelief. I had to snicker a little when Mason suddenly whacked the window screen with the broom and she jumped. He had such a crappy aim. It was part of the reason he was usually the one we sent out there to deal with these things. I didn't want to know what would happen if we managed to actually hit the darn things, but for now chasing them away was working for us.

Mason swung the broom again, missing the graveling by inches. It turned and hissed at him, then, with its body still turned toward the street, spun its head exorcist-style back to the room. This time, instead of looking around at all of us, those beady black eyes zeroed in on me. Everything else faded away into the background-Roxy's bitching, George's barking (when did Daisy get home?), Mason's aggravated yelling. It was just me, the graveling and a soft, hissing noise in my head, like the damned thing was trying to talk to me. Then it scrambled up the side of the house and disappeared.

"Well, that was pleasant," sniffed Daisy, hanging George's leash back up on the wall with a huff. "I take your stupid dog out for a walk so it'll stop trying to eat my shoes and come back to find you've invited the local wildlife to come play."

"Shut up Daisy," said Roxy mildly, bending down to scratch George between the ears. "It's not George's fault the little buggers seem to like her."

We all jumped when Mason slammed the broom into the side of the house again. This time he managed to slam himself into the house too, hard enough that he stumbled backward and landed flat on his ass on the front lawn. He was still yelling. Behind him, I could see the old lady who lived next door scooping up her five million cats and tossing them inside. Probably thought Mason was going to eat them. I _so _didn't want to know what the neighbors thought we did over here.

"Guys, what was that?" Reggie had finally snapped out of her stupor and was giving all of us the evil eye. She'd backed up, slowly, so her back was against the wall. Probably not a bad idea, all things considered. "Was that, like, some kind of deranged monkey?"

How did you explain gravelings? Sure, Rube and Mason had explained them to me, once upon a time, but I'd had some nice visuals to go along with it. Since I didn't _really_ want to take Reggie along on a reap, I was going to have to figure out something else.

"Hey Peanut. Who's your furry friend out there?"

Or not. Muttering a quick thank-you to Upper Management if they could hear me, I turned and smiled weakly at Rube. Hadn't heard him come in either. Damn, this graveling thing had me totally off my game. Ugh.

"Hey Rube. Um, you remember Reggie, right?"

Rube looked over at Reggie and nodded, a little smile playing around his mouth. "Hi Reggie. It's good to see you again."

"You too, Mr. Sofer," Reggie said politely. I rolled my eyes. Gravelings hanging off the windows, my little sister blows everything we thought we knew about the darn things out of the water, Rube had popped up to yell about the fact that my sister was living with me, but we were just as well-mannered as always.

Okay, maybe a little more so. Come to think of it, manners weren't really our strong suit. Screaming at each other, though…

"You didn't answer my question Georgia. Who's your fuzzy friend I saw sitting on the roof outside?"

If I hadn't been watching carefully when he said it I'd have missed it. Rube was deliberately trying to sound like he didn't give a shit, the way he always did, but his eyes flicked away from mine for just a second. In anyone else, it would have meant there was a fly on the wall. Or the graveling was back. Or George was licking his ankles. From Rube, who made it his business to make you as uncomfortable as inhumanly possible, it was practically a dissertation. He was trying not to tell me something. I just wasn't sure what that "something" was.

"Listen Rube, I don't know anything about this." Roxy reached out and gave my shoulder an unexpected squeeze. "I kept Mason off blondie's back till you got here, just like you told me to. Now I'm outta here. Some of us have better things to do than stand around looking at the walls all day."

"Good idea Roxy. Take Reggie with you. The rest of these screw-ups too. Go get some ice cream or something." It wasn't a request. Roxy nodded, heading for the door, Mason and Daisy dogging her heels like rats deserting a sinking ship. (Come to think of it, that wasn't that far off.) Only my darling little sister dug in her heels.

"Wait a minute. I'm not going _anywhere_ until someone tells me what the hell's going on." Reggie's eyes flicked from me to Rube. Poor kid had been pressed to the wall the whole time, probably trying to figure out what was going on. Our fucked up little family could be kind of hard to follow sometimes. "What was that thing?"

"That, Reggie, was a graveling." Rube may have been talking to Reggie, but his eyes were glued to mine. After the benign indifference we'd gotten from him lately, the strange look on his face had chills running down my spine. He looked-pissed. Or nervous. It was kind of hard to tell with Rube.

"What the hell is a graveling?"

"Gravelings cause the accidents that kill people. We just clean up the mess." He sounded like one of the stupid lecturers I'd sat and listen to during my notoriously short stint at community college. "They only show up when someone's about to die."

"Oh." Reggie frowned, putting the pieces together. "So what the hell are they doing here? I mean, aren't you guys, like, dead already?"

"That, Reggie, is what I want to talk to your sister about."

I expected Reggie to complain. I may not have seen much of her in the last seven years, but I knew she didn't like to be told what to do. And I was almost proud of the finely-honed disrespect for authority I'd managed to instill in her before I died. So I was surprised when she nodded, turned and, a little blankly, followed everyone else out the door. Traitor. I don't know why I was surprised though. Rube had always been really, really good at getting people to do what he wanted them to, whether they wanted to or not. Of course, he'd never been that subtle. But maybe that was because subtle had never really worked on me.

George woofed. The clock chimed. And Rube smiled.

"So. Georgia. Shall we have a drink?"


	13. Chapter 13

"Yeah, right. A drink."

Noooo, I didn't sound hysterical at all. Nope. Didn't sound a thing like a little dead girl who was about to get her ass reamed for breaking every reaper rule in the book. Definitely didn't sound like someone who was pretty sure she was about to get relocated to Antarctica, leaving Reggie in Daisy and Mason's not-even-close to capable hands. Nope, not me. I was just trying to be a good hostess.

Then I looked at the empty bottles by the window and sighed. Somehow, I doubted orange juice was what Rube had in mind. But it was what he was going to get. Mason had drained the rest of the good stuff dry.

Grabbing two tumblers, I plopped them on the table and filled them up. Rube slowly walked over and sat down, his eyes never quite meeting mine. Frowning, I leaned back against the edge of the counter. Rube didn't look mad. He looked worried. When Rube looked mad, all was right with the world. When Rube looked worried…well. It usually meant that shit was going to fly.

"Listen, she needed a place to stay," I said finally. I couldn't take the silence anymore. We'd had enough of that from him lately, and it was starting to get on my nerves. "Mom's out of town, and…"

"George."

It was quiet. Too quiet. But it shut me up faster than a freight train.

"This isn't about Reggie."

"It's not?"

"No." Rube shook his head, a quick smile quirking his lips. "Reggie's fine. Just do the kid a favor and keep her away from Mason. Nobody deserves that."

"Tell me about it." I frowned, tapping my fingers against the bar. "If you're not here to yell at me about Reggie, what are you doing here?"

"You guys have been keeping secrets. Thought I told you to stop doing that. That's not the first graveling to show up over here, is it?" He twirled his glass between his fingers. The fact that he still wasn't looking at me was starting to freak me out.

"No."

"And they don't leave voluntarily, do they?"

"No."

Rube just nodded, brooding into his glass. Then he sipped his juice and stood up.

"Nice talking to you. Thanks for the juice."

Wait, what? That was it? There was no way that was it.

"That's all you have to say? Thanks for the juice?" I hustled over to the door, grabbing the hand he'd put on the knob so he couldn't turn it. "We've got gravelings popping up everywhere, my little sister-who isn't even supposed to know about reapers or gravelings or anything else-is spending the rest of the summer with me, she can actually _see_ the damned things, you've been switching between snapping and snarling and brooding like a rabid alligator for weeks, and all you can say is thanks for the juice? What the hell, Rube?" When he didn't answer me, I gave his hand a shake. "Talk to me, damn it."

"I don't know!" Rube turned to look at me, and he looked…tired. Old, and tired, with those dead eyes you see on the living when you've pushed them a little too far. His voice, when he started speaking again, was gentle. "I don't know. There's something going on. Something big. Something that Cameron Kane set in motion is going to change the world as we know it, but I'll be damned if I know what it is."

"What does upper management say?"

"Just…keep watching." He frowned, scrunching up his forehead. "That's it. Just keep watching."

"Well, that helps," I said dryly. The whoever-the-hell-they-were in upper management might micromanage like a bitch, but they were about as helpful as a snowmobile in August when you needed them to be. "Maybe they'll tell us to start looking for the sun too."

"The day we have to worry about that, we've got bigger problems than Cameron Kane." Rube lifted the hand that wasn't on the door to smooth out the massive bag under my right eye. "You look tired, Peanut. I need to go so you can get Reggie settled in and get some sleep." Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a post-it and stuck it in my hand. "You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks." It was seven o'clock in the freaking morning. What did he expect? If he wanted a beauty queen at the crack of dawn he needed to talk to Daisy, not me. I guess my powers of sarcasm were fading along with my energy though, because Rube didn't even flinch. Or scowl. Or smile. Just stood there looking at me. Then I realized that at some point, the thumb of the hand I'd grabbed to make him stay had started brushing over my knuckles. It was…weird. But not totally creepy and awful. Which was kind of creepy and awful all by itself.

Before I had a chance to think about it too hard, Rube took my hand off his, gave it a quick squeeze, then slipped out the door, leaving me staring blankly after him.

Well hell. Gravelings taking over. Rube acting like he cared. The end of the universe as we know it knocking on our door. Just another freaking day in paradise.


	14. Chapter 14

It was 3 o'clock. I had a reap at six and work at nine, which meant for the first time since this stupid heat wave started I could actually get some sleep. Mason was passed out on the couch after his late night/early morning drinking spree. Daisy had taken one look at the contents of Reggie's suitcase, grabbed a credit card she'd swiped from god knows where, and taken her shopping. George was snoring on the floor by my feet.

It should have been perfect. Instead, I was lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Damn Rube and his bi-polar personality. I shouldn't care. I really shouldn't. But this hot and cold thing of his where he completely ignored us one week and rode our asses the next was driving me nuts. I could write it off as Rube just being Rube, but... But this morning he'd looked worried. Rube never worried. Tense, absolutely. That man was born tense. It was a miracle someone hadn't come by, given him a good smack and cracked him in half yet.

Cranky, well, cranky was probably written into his freaking DNA before he died. Part of me wondered if he'd been this cranky before death…or hell, if he'd been this cranky before _me._ The way he was with Mason and Roxy, the way he'd been with Betty, made me wonder if maybe I'd driven him to it. Like maybe he'd been a normal person before me. Oh, I knew it was a bunch of crap. He'd been an asshole the first day I met him, and he'd gotten no small amount of pleasure out of being an asshole every day since. I knew that. But I wondered.

My self-esteem issues had absolutely nothing to do with what was going on right here, right now. Whether I'd driven him crazy or not, Rube'd had 6 years to get used to me. At this point, it was way too late to start pointing fingers. And Rube was worried. Which was weird enough to guarantee that even though everyone in the house was gone, I was so freaking exhausted I would have sold Mason into slavery for a chance to grab 8 straight hours of sleep (come to think of it, that wasn't a bad idea) and the last thing I wanted to do was actually get up, get dressed and go outside, I needed to talk to Rube.

And I obviously wasn't going to get a moment's peace until I did.

_**A/N: Yes, it's a shorty. Sorry But I wanted to kick off the weekend with an update, and the thought of a disgusted George who just can't get any stinking sleep kept rolling through my mind. **_


	15. Chapter 15

It felt weird, walking down the hall to Rube's apartment. It wasn't like it was the first time I'd done it. The memory of my bratty eighteen year old self yelling at him up here was so clear, it could have happened yesterday.

It wasn't even the hundredth time I'd done it. Rube's house was Switzerland, as far as his merry band of reapers was concerned. It was a place where you could put away all your troubles, forget that Daisy had left her shoes in the middle of the floor so you tripped over them at 2 o'clock in the morning, or that Mason had thrown up on your couch so you spent four hours that morning steam cleaning it (again), or that Roxy had been ducking your invitation to hang out for _weeks_ because she thought you were just a stupid kid.

You could even forget that Rube was the biggest jackass this side of death when he wanted to be. I think it was his couch. We'd helped him pick out a few years back, when the one he'd had sitting in the middle of his living room since Methusalah was a baby finally gave up the ghost. Of course, he made us sit on the damn thing for weeks before he finally admitted it sucked. But that's Rube for you. Why replace something when you could just put up with a little aggravation and keep it around?

He'd laughed when I said that, said he'd just gotten it broken in the way he liked it. Why get rid of something just when it was starting to get good, even if it did poke you the wrong way sometimes? It took me weeks to realize he wasn't just talking about his couch. He was talking about us too.

It was easy to forget sometimes that even though Rube was a pain in the ass, he was more or less the reason we were still here. He could have asked upper management to have us transferred. Gotten himself a nice, efficient team of reapers that would do their job and toe the line and not give him any shit about it. But he didn't. He just broke us in, in that annoying, quiet, pushy, anal-retentive way of his, wearing away at us until he had us where he wanted us, then sat back and put up with our crap because it was easier than starting all over again.

He swore he actually liked having us around. I figured he was just lazy.

The memory of that conversation made me laugh, so I was actually smiling when Rube opened the door.

"Hey Peanut. What are you doing here?" Rube leaned back to look at the clock I figured was probably still hanging on the wall. "Figured you'd still be sleeping."

"Yeah, so did I," I grumbled, trying to make it sound like I meant it. "Can I come in?"

"Of course." He stepped back, watching silently while I walked in and took a spin around the room. Truthfully, now that I was here, I wasn't sure how much of this trip was me not being able to sleep and how much of it was just needing to come here again. Between reaping and Happy Time I hadn't been over since he got back. Standing in the middle of his living room, sniffing the thick smell of pasta in the air from the hot plate he was still using (instead of the perfectly good stove in his kitchen he wasn't), watching him lean against the door in his black t-shirt and jeans and the white apron he'd swiped from Der Waffle Haus forever ago, I couldn't for the life of me remember why.

Ever since he got back, I'd felt like we were walking on eggshells. Something about his apartment, the sameness of it all, made me relax. It was…nice, I realized. Relaxing. And it was making me sleepy.

"Are you hungry?" Rube asked quietly. I had no idea how long I'd just been standing there staring. Obviously long enough to start making him uncomfortable.

"Yeah, thanks." I wasn't. It was too damn hot to eat. But now that I was here I had no idea how to start this conversation. Stuffing my face was as good a place to start as any.


	16. Chapter 16

_**HUGE thanks to PillowDrabbler for tapping me on the shoulder and reminding me I've been so wrapped up in Dr. Who fic I was letting this one slide It's definitely time to peek in on Rube and George, but…I'm thinking a shortie tonight. Something short and sweet, maybe by way of dinner with Rube, yes?**_

"You really should give up reaping and open a restaurant or something."

Okay, actually it came out more like, "Mrrhp shoiumph wemnhp resteermt rsmetmehing." My mom had yelled at me for _years_ to stop talking with my mouth full. Something about me looking like a cow chewing on its fucking cud. Fortunately, not only did Rube not give a shit, he was really, really good at translating pasta-linguinese.

Come to think of it, maybe I should have suggested he give being a dentist a try instead.

"I could do that," he agreed thoughtfully, folding his hands under his chin. "Go get myself a regular job, get someone else to babysit you all. Of course, knowing my luck you'd manage to tear the universe apart again, and I'd just have to come back in and mop it all up." A quick smile before he tucked back into his food took some of the sting out. "Nah. No point."

"Just trading in one group of fuck-ups for another, right?"

"Georgia Lass, you kiss your puppy with that mouth?"

Oh, like he had room to talk. Rolling my eyes, I looked back down and shoveled up another forkful of whatever this pasta sauce dripping pile of awesomeness was. I hadn't entirely been kidding, either about the restaurant (damn that man could cook) or with the losers that would come drifting in if he did. We were bad, but I'd seen some of the losers that worked at Der Waffle House at night. Kiffany rocked, but everyone else? There were nights I was pretty sure reaping them would be doing society a favor.

"Would Upper Management even let you quit if you wanted to?" I hadn't really thought about the question before I asked, but as soon as it came out I knew the answer. He was here, wasn't he? Instead of off enjoying that greasy burger joint in the sky? I wonder if that was what Rube's heaven looked like. Or if his daughter was there. Or if he had sat around talking books and art and poetry with people who got it. Who actually cared. Unlike us. Come to think of it, Rube had spent an awful lot of time over the years trying to cram culture down our throat.

Wonder how much of it actually stuck.

The point is, no one jumps up and down and asks to get their lights revoked. If Rube could actually tell Upper Management where he wanted to be, I could pretty much guarantee it wouldn't be here. He was just as screwed as the rest of us.

"So, why don't you tell me what you're really doing here?" Slick topic change, that one. Except now I wasn't really sure how to answer. I shuffled my plates together and headed to the sink to give myself some time to think…and yeah, to stew a little. I'd had a good mad worked up on the way over here, after all. It seemed a shame to let it go to waste.

"What the hell is your problem?" Grabbing his scrub brush, I started digging the hell out of the cold white porcelain in my hand.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I looked up, then back down as quick as I could. The water and suds swirling down the drain weren't really that interesting, but the white noise was a good block against actually having to think about the words before they came out of my mouth. These conversations were always so much easier to have when you didn't actually have to look the person in the eye. "I get that you got screwed. I do. And yeah, I kind of get that it's our fault. But you know what?"

I looked up at him then, humiliated by the tears stinging the back of my eyes. He'd put down the plate he'd been holding and was just looking at me like…I don't even know. It was some weird combination of hurt and anger and helplessness that I hadn't seen on his face for a long, long time. Not since the last time I'd shown up at his house and he'd told me he didn't know what a good kid I'd turn out to be.

Bet he regretted that one. But what was I saying? Oh, yeah…

"You aren't the only one that got screwed by Cameron Kane. You. Left. That's it, Rube. You left. You left us here without so much as a 'See you later'. We counted on you, damn it!" The tears were rolling down my cheeks now, and I could feel snot building up at the back of my nose. Great. "We counted on you, and you were gone and everything went to shit. Then you came back, and we were so happy you were here, but you weren't. You aren't. I mean, you show up, you hand out our reaps, but you're not _here._ You don't joke with Daisy, or pick on Roxy. You actually mean it when you call Mason a fuck-up. The rest of the time you're still off in your own little world. You either ignore us or treat us like shit. If that's how it's going to be, then maybe you should just fucking leave!"


	17. Chapter 17

Did I really just say that? Tell me I didn't say that. Nope. I said it. Out loud. Oh god. Rube was going to kill me.

The Rube in question just stood there, every thought and feeling he had dancing across his face. First he looked hurt. Then pissed. Then amused. Then, finally, that stupid, calm acceptance of his that always made me so mad I wanted to spit in his face.

"Is that what you think, Miss Georgia? That I should go?"

Dangerous question, that one. Because yeah, part of me kind of thought that he should. Not just because he was supposed to get his lights and got them taken away again. He'd also been a massive emo prick since he got back, and I was getting tired of it.

"An emo prick?" His eyebrows shot up. "Congratulations. I think that might actually be a new one on the insult list."

Oh shit. I said that out loud?

"Yup."

"Okay, my mouth needs to work out a better filter with my brain. This just isn't fair." Scowling, I walked around the sink, grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the couch. Pulling him down with a giant 'whoof', I tugged on his hand until I was sure I had his complete attention. "Thing is, you obviously don't want to be here. And you're taking it out on us, which just sucks."

"And what, exactly, do you propose I do about it? Since you seem to be just full of ideas today."

It would have been easy to think he was just being a jerk, except he wasn't. You could tell when Rube was just trying to get a rise out of you. This time…he sounded like he really wanted to know. Like he was just as lost and clueless as the rest of us were about what the hell we were supposed to be doing, and he was looking to me for answers. It was weird. And kind of wrong.

Realizing that he wasn't just jerking me around stopped whatever obnoxious thing I was about to fling at him (although it would have been a good one, I'm sure of it) and actually made me think. "You can't go back. I know you would if you could, and that's okay," I said quickly, giving his hand a squeeze. "I didn't get it at first, but this job? It makes you old. If someone asked me if I wanted to throw in my chips right now and retire, I'd be all 'Where do I sign?'

"But you can't. So we all have to make the best of it. And this, the fighting, the snapping, not talking to us…that's not you, Rube." He was staring straight ahead now, jaw set, quite deliberately not looking at me. I wasn't used to Rube ignoring me. Cussing at me, sure. He loved to do that. If he was screaming at me, I knew everything was going alright. Ignoring me…

"We missed you, you know." Slowly, his head turned. A quick little bubble of hope started bouncing around in my chest. I had to hurry and start talking before it had the chance to sneak away. "We might have fell hook, line and sinker for Cameron's bullshit, but we did it because we thought he was you. We wanted him to be you, because you're the only one who knows what's going on in this crazy, fucked-up world we live in. And when you were gone, none of it made sense anymore."

Oh shit. I was going to start bawling. Tears were stinging the back of my eyes, and I heard my voice start to wobble. I didn't want to cry in front of Rube. Not again. But then he pulled his hand out of mine and opened his arms, and I tumbled against his shirt and soaked in his aftershave and, for the first time since Cameron Kane, completely lost my shit.

Rube held on to me while I cried, and screamed, and completely soaked his shirt. I think I even socked him in the stomach a few times. He didn't even have the decency to flinch, which was damned insulting of him when you got right down to it. He just pulled me tighter, and ran his fingers through my hair, and muttered something with his lips pressed to my head that sounded an awful lot like "I'm sorry." Over and over and over again.

When I was done, and Rube had passed me a box of tissues so I didn't have to feel like the swamp master of snot, I looked up and realized he'd been crying too. Great. Good ol' fashioned sob fest around here. Not what I'd set out to do when I came over. I opened my mouth to ask him what he'd been crying about, but that wasn't what came out.

"Rube? Tell me about gravelings."


End file.
